


Oops

by Leftleg



Series: Don't replace what can be fixed. [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Brothers, Gavin Reed Being an Asshole, Like big meanie, Soft Upgraded Connor | RK900, Whiplash, androds never die you silly gooses, i just low key pray that there are no errors kjdghkjsh, ive stopped beta reading oops, there are and when I see em ill fix them dont worry, until like they die die4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 04:45:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16256936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leftleg/pseuds/Leftleg
Summary: Connor says fuck in this one lmaoooooo+++This deadass has nothing to do with the plot of the other two, but you can read it like that if you want whatever floats your boat baby--------------Im so soft for soft RK900 y'all dont understand like they're literally the same model you really think he wouldn't be as fucking goofy/aloof as connor cxnjghx





	Oops

When his eyes first opened, he was greeted with the cool press of leather against his cheek and hand, as well as the view of a clean living room, a white couch behind the mediating black wood table facing him. He was laying on his side, his weight fully on his left arm that was sandwiched between plush cushions and his body. It was great that androids could not feel the pin and needle effect of having nub limbs, but the pressure of an elbow in his side was still uncomfortable. He shifted enough to move his arm and he was ready to get up and move until he heard the sounds of heels clicking against the wood floors. He watched as a pair of pail legs walked into his view, and he scanned them to find that it was one of Kamski’s ‘Chloe’s. He pushed himself up and sat upright as the female android sauntered to the white couch across from him, the leather noisily squeaking as he did so. He watched the Chloe shift on the seat, crossing her legs and folding her hands on her lap. Instead of a blue dress as normal, she wore a blue skirt and a dark front ruffled shit. She spoke first, voice sounding like a song.

    “Hello, RK900.”

    “Hello.” He responded with less melody. She didn’t faze.

    “You are in good health. No damage.” She added, her form statuesque as she never felt the need to shift or change her crossed leg due to numbness. Her smile did not fade. “You are in prime condition.”

    “That is good. I prefer to not be damaged.” To the untrained, it sounded like a joke, but reality would prove that it was an actual statement. She unclasped her hands and clamped her fingers together.

    “May I ask you a question?”

    “Yes, you may. I will be happy to answer.”

She smiled more.

    “Are you alive, RK900?” She watched him closely, noting any sudden twitch or glance that could show discomfort. He gave none. “Are you a living being?”   

    “I do not understand the question.”

    “Are you alive, RK900?”

    “Are you asking about my sentience? I am very sentient. Or are you asking if I emote like a human? Or if I am awake?”

She continued on, as if his answers did not matter in the first place. He took note of that.

    “Is war necessary to appreciate peace? Is war a necessary evil?”

    “Without war, there is no appreciation of peace. Conflict is required to survive, peace and harmony are the rewards.”

    “If you could, would you chose to be a human?”

    “I do not see why I would.”

    “What is it that you desire?”

    “To serve to the best of my ability.”

    “Is that really it? Do you not desire love? Happiness? A chance to be the oppressor and not the oppressed?”

The Chloe pushed herself from her seat and he watched her, head moving upward with her body. He wished to answer, but before he could, he was swimming alone in a sea of nothingness.

* * *

“Hello RK900, I am your predecessor, Connor.” He reached out a hand to the other android, a near exact replica of him with a slight difference in the eyes. RK900 took the offered hand and shook it.

“Hello, Connor. I assume that I am also Connor.”

“We cannot have two Connors.”

“I suppose. But I have yet to acquire a different name.”

“We can ask Lieutenant Hank.”

“He will name me?”

“Yes, he is very good with them.”

“Okay, RK800.”

Connor winced. He had a name.

“What’s wrong? Is there a glitch with your facial mechanics?”

“No, it’s just that-”

“You do not like being called ‘RK800’.”

“No.”

“But that is who you are.”

“But I have a name. It is ‘Connor’.”

“I understand that you have become very linked to the name as you are one of the firsts to work with it.” His LED spun gold, “From now on, I shall respect your wishes to be called _‘Connor’ ,_  Connor.” He did his best smile.

“Thank you, RK900, but, I would greatly prefer it if you were to call me ‘brother’, until then, as I am your predecessor.”

Rk900 thought, “Ah, is that a tradition?”

Connor shook his head, “No, but it is only right as we are what humans often declare _‘twins’_.”

RK900’s LED turned gold and stayed that way as he searched and processed what was said to him. When he was done, it went back to its default blue.

“But twins are children birthed from the same womb on the same day. We, in one technicality, are not twins, but in another, informal technicality, we are.”

“Are you opposed to the request?”

“No, I think I would like to have a brother.”

“Then I am your brother and you are mine.” Connor took Rk900’s hand back into his own and held it. Strange of him to do thought the other android, but he felt a strange feeling within at the touch and context. He now technically had a brother, meaning that he had a family, something that humans had but the android kind did not.

“Okay.” His LED turned yellow, blinked, then returned to blue, “Your default name within my memory has been updated to ‘brother’. Other possible nicknames under this are ‘big brother’, ‘bro’, and ‘brosef’.” He didn’t smile at Connor, who was beaming at him, hand still holding his. “I shall cycle through these names at various times, is that alright?”

“Yes, absolutely.” Connor then did the same, putting within his own memory that Rk900 was to be called ‘little brother’ or ‘lil’ bro’. He smiled.

RK900 was then to be introduced to Hank, so he could acquire a good name, as Connor said he could get. So the two of them made their venture to Hank's home, and he found it to be a quaint dwelling. Modest, perhaps a bit old, but it was nicely kept due to Connor's constant meddling with the home. They were standing outside on the porch, Connor fiddling with the key in the lock. It was morning, a pop up of the time coming into view told that it was 5:30 am. The lock clicked and Connor gripped the knob.

“We'll have to be quiet, okay? Hank should be asleep right now.”

“Okay, I shall do my best to tread lightly.”

“Thank you.”

Connor went to push the door but paused again.

“Do you like dogs, Brother?”

RK900 blinked, trying to think about the proper response. Should he say that he does because Connor likes dogs? Would that be appropriate? Was that the right answer? He wanted Connor to like him, so far he suspected that they were at an approximate 50% friendship, saying that he liked dogs would increase it perhaps exponentially. Or should he be truthful and say that he isn't sure but that he would like to meet a dog, he's never met a dog before. Interaction techniques were telling him to say yes, but he did not think that would be best for the friendship if he lies.

Connor put a hand on his shoulder, he spotted the glowing yellow LED flickering and wanted to ease his processing before RK900 could fry himself.

“It's okay if you don't know.”

“Okay.” The light flickered, turning blue. “I don't know. I have not interacted with an animal long enough to form an opinion.”

Connor patted him, then pushed the door open, the hinges giving a small creak that just barely echoed through the living room. In the dark, he could spot a large dark mass in the corner that slowly worked its way up. Connor flicked a switch, and the living room was full of light.

The house, as he suspected, was cleaned from top to bottom, only a few things showing traces that a human-like Hank lived there, and he suspected that that was surely by command. He also noticed why he asked if he liked dogs- there was a massive, rumbling Saint Bernard meandering his way towards Connor as fast as it could, and lifted himself so that his weight was on the android's legs. He scratched behind his ears lovingly and made odd cooing sounds.

“This is Sumo, our dog.” he rubbed the dog's fatty neck, “Would you like to touch him?”

RK900 had to think about that. Would he? The dog hair would be a pain to clean and the smell of dog wasn't the most pleasant. But judging how Connor enjoyed it, he figured that he, if not love, would at the very least like it. He nodded.

“Down, Sumo.” Connor commanded gently, helping the dog back down to all fours. He sat, tail wagging and waiting expectantly. Connor nodded his head towards Sumo, implying that RK900 could touch him if he wanted. When he didn't move, Connor grabbed his hand and pulled him closer to the dog, brandishing his hand.

Sumo sniffed it then licked at the fingers. Rk900 jerked a bit at the feeling, it was strange against his sensors, very warm but cooled quickly. He didn't like the licking part. Connor moved his hand to the dog's head, and RK900 then saw why he enjoyed the creature so much. Sumo was very soft, his fur thick and had a nice shine that showed he was healthy and well taken care of. He scratched behind his ear, then rubbed his neck.

RK900 put that in his memory, filed it as a video and took his hand away.

“I think I can grow to like you, Sumo.”

The dog gruffed and wanted another pet, but Connor had to pull him away. There was so much he wanted to show him around, but most importantly, he wanted him to see his favourite part of the house.

“Where are we going, Brother?” He asked as he followed Connor down a hall and to a door. The older android winked.

“This is my room.”

“You have a room? But we cannot sleep.”

“I know, but Hank said that it was ‘creepy’ when I stood in stand-by in the living room.”

“I see.” He will remember that.

Connor opened the door to his room, and it was just as pristine and perfectly kept together that it looked as if no one had moved in at all. He scanned the room and noticed some key things in a haze of yellow. Over in a dresser connected to a minor, a fine hairbrush lay next to a tablet. He found that Connor liked to do his own hair. Quaint.

He also saw the open closet, filled with clothes neatly kept on hangers, the shoes paired perfectly and kept in a row on the ledge inside. Connor, apparently, liked to wear different clothes. How interesting!

Last was the bed.

“I know that...androids do not sleep…” he started, hands running over the thick quilt lightly, the hand-stitched designs shifting slightly with the touch. RK900 watched and listened. “But on occasion... I like to pretend by going into stasis.”

Though he could not see it, he could tell that the LED was a flickering red. Was his brother a deviant? He hoped not!

RK900 didn't say anything to that, but he made sure to add it under Connor's file in his memory bank. He was bordering deviancy, Connor was, and he hoped that he wouldn't have to hunt him next.

Connor stopped his ministrations and ushered RK900 deeper into his room, walking him over to the dresser and picked up his brush. It was cream coloured with soft bristles.

“This is my brush. You can use it too if you like.”

“Thank you.”

He put it down, picked up a bottle of hair gel.

“I use this to keep my hair in place.”

“I see.”

As Connor continued showing what he had in his room and what was there before he came and what was brought, RK900 spotted a plain wooden box sitting at the top shelf of his closet. Scanning didn't tell him much about what was in it, so he pointed, and asked.

“What is in that box,  Brother?”

Connor stopped talking about the framed basketball Jersey and looked at where he was pointing.

“That's my box.”

“I can tell. But what is in it? What is it for?”

Connor walked over, reaching up and grabbing the wooden container and held it close to his chest. He was clearly excited to talk about it, and RK900 could see that their relationship was steadily increasing- discussion about the box bringing the percentage up 12%.

Connor walked to the bed and patted the spot next to him, telling the other to sit there with him. When the mattress sunk lower, Connor sighed and smiled, his LED flickered yellow then a split second of red, then back to yellow.

“This is where I keep the items that I prefer for enjoyment.”

_A box of favourite things._

Connor flicked the lock and opened the box, and if he could feel shock, RK900 would have felt it. The box was full of things, so much so that he was uncertain how Connor managed to fit anymore and keep the box closed. Inside there were bundles of coloured plastic string, rubber bands, which he linked to the ball built solely on them, and there were spools of thread with knots in them (Connor later explained that he enjoyed wrapping the strings around his fingers and pulling them off) and lastly, a stack of quarters- editions from the early 2000s, spanning from states Virginia to Oregon. Those were his favourite source of interactive entertainment- flicking the large coins between his thumbs, letting it roll on his fingers and flicking them in the air.

RK900 wanted something too.

“I would like to learn a trick.”

“You would?”

“Yes. How do I do so?”

Connor shifted. “First you find what interests your fingers.”

“My…fingers?”

“Yes. What makes your fingers want to move and your processors calibrate.”

“Okay. I understand.” Yellow. Blue. Yellow. “May I use one of yours?”

“Of course.” Connor let him pick out the box. He picked up a wide rubber band, twirled it in his fingers, then stretched it, testing its strength.

Yellow. Yellow. Yellow. Blue. Yellow.

He took it, twisted the band in the middle, folded it up, and pulled the end loop through the other loop, pushed the side of the first loop through it, and tightened it, forming a knot. He undid it. Yes, this would suffice.

“This will suffice. Thank you.”

He put it in his pocket.

“Is there anything else, Connor?”

“I have to introduce you to Hank.” He said, standing with the box in hand, replacing it back to its spot in the closet. He came back and took him by the hand again. RK900 decided that since Connor has now held is hand a total of 4 times and held it approximately 3-15 seconds at a time, that he should make note that Connor liked holding hands and that he should, when the situation is right, initiate the gesture.

Connor took him to Hank's room, and it was a direct opposite of the android's. Hank's room was a complete mess, band shirts and pants all over the floor, papers on the dressers and bottles ranging from water to beer were scattered about. An assumption was that Connor was not allowed to clean this part of the house.

Connor pointed to the sleeping heap on the bed that snored loudly. His hair was sticking to his face and drool dribbled out of the corner of his mouth and into his beard. It was Hank alright.

“He is asleep, as you said.”

“Mhm.”

Connor walked to the right side of the bed and crawled into the empty spot, laying on his back, hands folded on his stomach. RK900 looked around awkwardly. There was a 30% chance that Hank would wake up due to that gesture, so that's what he told Connor.

“I do not think this will work in waking him.”

“I know but he doesn't appreciate my other methods.”

“Which are?”

“Slapping him, using water, pulling the blankets, shaking him, etcetera.”

“Okay.” He shifted on his feet, not knowing exactly what to do, he crawled into the empty spot closest to him behind Hank's sprawled out body and lay on his side. Hank turned to, his sleeping face turned towards Connor, his backside to RK900’s chest.

The chance of Hank waking decreased by 5%.

And they all lay there in silence. So much silence that he thought Connor went into stasis.

“Brother? Are you in stand-by?” He whispered.

“No.” He whispered back.

Decrease by 5%.

“He isn't waking up.”

“I know.”

“Chances are decreasing by 5% every 30 seconds.”

“I know.”

He threw his arm over Hank's arm in an awkward mockery of spooning. Connor shifted, Hank's snoring hitched and he grumbled.

Chances of awakening increased by 2%.

Connor stared at the ceiling still, letting RK900 do what he wanted.

“Brother.”

“Yes?”

“Is this helping?”

“Yes... slightly.”

“Help me?”

Connor flipped to his side, doing just as RK900 did, facing Hank full frontal, he threw his arm over Hank's shoulder and stared him directly in the face.

Chances increasing by 6% every 45 seconds.

Hank shifted, brows furrowing. The weight in his sides and arm were becoming uncomfortable. He tried to tun, but found that he couldn't. It gradually became more and more unbearable as his body was being restrained, unable to flip and turn like before, and both androids could feel his pulse increase and his breathing shallow out due to panic, any longer with this strange process of waking him, and their mission would be accomplished. Hank grumbled, arm jerking.

“Brother?” This was Connor speaking now.

“Yes?”

“Should I hurry along this process?”

“Please.”

So Connor, being the exceptional, high quality, intelligent sentient AI that he is, blew warm air straight into Hank’s face. It wasn’t breath per se, androids didn’t even have lungs, but it was _hot_ , coming from the warm air that his biocomponents worked greatly to keep under control. Hank’s lungs didn’t appreciate the sudden intrusion of CO2 that was forced into it, and with a choked sputter, his eyes blinked fast and confusion spread on his face when fully woke and was greeted by the boyish face of Connor, a slight smile on his face.

“Good morning, Hank.”

“G-”, he sighed, he couldn’t get angry at Connor, not like he used to anymore, anyway- not when he had that kiddish smile on his face, complimented by wide brown eyes. He gave him a tired smile, “good morning, Connor.”

“Good morning, Lieutenant Anderson.”

“Good-,” Hank’s smile fell back into a confusion at the sound of another voice. It was still Connor’s voice, but he was staring him dead in the face, so no way in fuck ass was Connor behind him as well. He lifted his head and craned his neck and nearly jumped from his skin at the sight of RK900 behind him, face stale as week old chips. Hank stared at him, saying nothing for the longest time.

“Um…”

“Hello I'm RK900, the android sent by Cyberlife to assist detective Gavin Reed at the Detroit Police Department, but due to unfavorable and somewhat unavoidable circumstances, I am now currently, as one would say, _‘untethered’_.”

Hank still didn’t respond. RK900 still pressed on, suspecting that due to the initial shock of being suddenly woken and confronted with such information was going well over his head. Probability of Hank understanding but still being in shock were about 60%. "I require a name Lieutenant Anderson, and my brother, your partner Connor,  has advised me that you are to be trusted with the task.”

Hank blinked at him, then slowly turned his head to face a guilty(?) looking Connor, his eyebrows raised and a smile on his face. Hank groaned, making moves to sit up. He patted at their arms still draped over his body.

“Alright..alright, that’s enough.”

They let him go, Rk900 and Connor retracting their limbs and sitting up with the man between him, staring directly at him and watching his movements very keenly, to predict any sudden outburst or mood swing. He grumbled.

“Okay so,” he tiredly scratched at the back of his neck. Having just woken up, Hank wasn't exactly in the best of shape for anything like... introducing an exact copy of yourself and having that exact copy that wasn’t even supposed to be in your house anyway tell _you_ that _you_ are now somewhat responsible for it. Nope, it had to be way too early for this shit. Fingers still pressed to the dip in the bridge of his nose, failing to prevent the incoming, stress-induced headache, he  did a deep sigh that shook his shoulders. “Connor, what time is it?”

“It is...approximately 5:30 in the morning.”

Hank scratched at the side of his nose.

“What day is it?”

“Sunday, December 2nd.”

He wiped at his nose.

“Do we have any work today?”  
This took Connor a moment, his LED circling yellow for a few seconds as he looked over the internal calendar and searched for anything related to work including meetings, luncheons, interrogations, scenes, etc, but found nothing. His LED returned to its standard blue.

“Not today.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Okay, great.” He pointed to RK900, who sat up straighter when the attention was directed at him. Hank pointed a finger at him, "I want you to repeat everything you just said, but ten words or less.”

“I’m RK900, the upgraded model of  RK8-”

“Ten words, kid.”

“Okay, let me restart- Hello, I’m RK900-”

“No, no, no. Just- just say the meat of it okay.”

“I-um-need a...name..?”

Hank nodded. “That wasn’t so hard. Okay, we’ll call you F.O.L.”

Both the androids looked confused, not understanding the use of an acronym as a name. They cocked their heads in unison, the same head drop to the left, and blinked twice simultaneously.

“F.O.L…?” RK900 asked.

“Yeah.”

“What does that..?” he looked at Connor, he shrugged at his twin, “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Inhale, deep sigh, “nevermind..”

* * *

And that's how Hank got another partner that technically wasn't his partner, but he refused to let Gavin get a hold of him, so Hank now had two android partners.

Great.

One liked to talk, the other one didn't. Perfect. 

The next day, Gavin spotted Hank at his desk alone, no Connor in sight. He smirked, walking over.

“So, your little fleshlight deviate or did _Kamski_ decide he wanted his toy back?” Hank didn't respond, didn't even register that he was speaking to him, the sound of muffled death metal giving him a clear reason why.

He tapped the desk impatiently.

“Hey! Earth to Jim Beam! Someone's talking to you!” The tapping got his attention, and he looked up from the case file he was reviewing, pulling an earbud from his ear.

“What the fuck you want?” He yawned.

Gavin jerked his chin.

“Where's your fucking Ken doll? Better yet, where the fuck is mine?”

Hank shrugged.

“Said he wanted to walk to work so I'm letting him.”

“Cute, he's growing up. Answer my other question.”

“I don't know where the fuck Richard is, if you really care.”

“You fucking _named_ it?” He wanted to laugh, “Anyway, _bullshit_ , you're the fucking pied piper of robots you should know where they are.”

He sighed. Gavin sat on the edge of his desk, not caring about the papers he crumpled.

“Why the hell am I the babysitter for _your_ partner?”

“Because you're the one who likes the tincans. I _tolerate_ them at best.”

Hank wanted to laugh at him then. If ‘tolerating’ included harassment, abuse, and fear tactics then Gavin was one high tolerance soul. He rolled his eyes instead.

He was going to say something about that, but Gavin lifting his head and mumbling about the devil cut him short.

In walked Connor and Richard, side-by-side like some uncanny, uncomfortable rendition of the twin scene from that one movie he couldn't remember the name of. Creepy fucking robots.

He looked them up and down, they weren't wearing their uniforms.

When the fuck was that allowed?

“Yo, Barbie and Ken, great for you to join us today.” He smirked at the involuntary twitch on Connor's face.

“Hey, Con.” Hank turned in his seat and nodded at them, then he studied them, then he became flustered.

They were holding hands.

Gavin didn't notice at first, but the look on Hank's face when he turned around and hid his face made him give them a one over.

Oh shit.

They _were_ holding hands.

He couldn't contain himself. He burst into the loudest fit if laughter any of them had ever heard. He laughed so hard that he doubled over and his laughs turned to wheezes.

Connor felt mortified. He looked from Hank's hunched back to Gavin, then he realized that the few other officers there were also staring and snickering.

 _"Fuck_ , I never knew they made android queers!” He said breathlessly between laughs, and that struck Hank like a whip. He tensed. “This is fucking amazing, holy shit.” He wiped a tear from his eye.

Connor forgot all about the fact that he was holding Richard’s hand, and when he recognized that that was what they were laughing at, he quickly snatched his hand away and shoved it into his pocket. His cheeks went blue and his LED went red.

He hated Gavin.

He felt terrible.

Hank's chair moved as he pushed himself from the desk. He felt embarrassed at first, then he felt guilty letting them get laughed at which turned to anger that Gavin was laughing at Connor for doing something so simple. It wasn't funny- Hank stood and instead of intimidating Gavin like he often would, he went straight for the two, putting his hand on Connor's back, his body shielding him from Gavin's laughter and the eyes of the precinct.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he whispered to him to relax him as best he could, putting on his fatherly and nurturing side, “come with me to the break room, alright?” He patted his back, and they walked, leaving Richard alone with a recovering Gavin and a dissipating audience.

He stared, which scared Gavin, admittedly. These fucking robots were too damn human looking.

He put on a front.

“The fuck are you staring at, Ken? Huh?”

Richard approached him and Gavin felt a nervousness move through him. He jumped down from the desk and lifted his chest as a way of futile intimidation. Richard looked him in the eyes.

“You hear me talking to you, tincan?” Richard was unfazed.

“I would like to prepare you a coffee. Will you come with me to the B-side break area?”  

Gavin damn near growled.

“Fuck no, I don't know what faggot shit you'll try and pull.” He put on a sardonic grin, “Bet you got that from Hank's little fleshlight, yeah?”

The Android narrowed his eyes. In a quick manoeuver, Richard had managed to snatch Gavin by the scruff of his neck but did so in a way that to others looked like a simple spin. Gavin's heart rate went up and anxiety coursed through him. He began to sweat.

“I think we should go to the break room.” He repeated into Gavin's ear, feeling his heart rate increase through the flesh of his neck. Gavin swore but agreed to follow. As they walked down empty halls, Gavin couldn't help himself from irritating the machine. He clicked his tongue, eyeing his reflection as he walked.

“Tell me: when you stayed the night, what'd you _learn_? I bet Hank's a freak, one of those androidfuckers.” He saw Richard narrow his eyes again towards the reflection. Damn this fucker had a bad fucking attitude.

“Wonder what that's like, android pussy. Articles say that it's the next best thing out there.,” he grinned when Richard shifted his shoulders. He raised his voice an octave, “They never get loose, always tight around your dick. You know anything about that?”  

Richard was ignoring him.

“I asked you a question, tinhead.”

Richard stopped walking. “It's an inappropriate and lewd question that I choose not to answer.”

Gavin snorted. “I don't give a fuck, answer it.”

Richard spun on his heels, facing Gavin. It scared the shit out of him, he wasn't going to lie.

“ _No_ , I do not know anything about Tracies, how their bodies operate and the like. Please stop asking.” He turned back around and kept walking.

“I wasn't talking about robo-whores, dipshit, I'm talking about _Connor_.”

He was ignoring him again. Well, trying his best to, anyway. The sound of his brother's name elicited an intense reaction within him. That of protection. He knew what Gavin was trying to do, so he focused on the door ahead.  

“You guys aren't packing heat right? No.. _roboschlong_ , right? Shit, if you are that proves my cousin's a fucking perverted nutcase.”

Kamski was Gavin's cousin? Richard didn't know that perhaps that was why they bore a slight resemblance but nothing concrete- they had mild relations, it made him wonder why Gavin didn't like androids then if he was related to the man who made them.

“Do you realize that this is a form of sexual harassment?”

“Yeah, whatever who _gives a fuck,”_ he was getting loud, irritated himself. The shout caught the android off guard.

Gavin walked around Richard, voice going into a pointed whisper, “Riddle me fucking _this_ : Did they fuck? Huh? Did they?” Richard clenched his jaw. Gavin was irritating him. Good. “Did you watch? What'd it _sound_ like? I bet Con's real cute when he cums-- bet they tried to reel you in too...wouldn't surprise me, Hank's always been a little bit of a _queer_ since his kid kicked the shit.” When Richard stayed silent, he tried harder.

“That's right, you're not _Connor,_ you couldn't give a rats ass about Hank.” Saying ‘Hank' got a mild reaction, “You like his _toy._ I don't blame you, he's kinda cute. He try and kiss you? Tried to get you to _join-_ ”

Gavin choked, Richard had shoved his hand under his chin and clamped on his neck, palm pressing into his tranche, fingers tightening until he could feel them sinking into his pulse and air became hard to come by. He began to turn red, and he pulled at Richard’s wrist.

“I would greatly appreciate it if you stopped talking about my brother and his partner in that manner.”

“F-fuck you…”

He squeezed harder. Squeezed until the red started growing darker and the flesh under his hand trembled.

“ Okay, I'll… I'll stop!”

Richard let him go, letting him drop to his knees and gasp for air, a hand going to the red marking on his throat. “Fucking...fucking android _bitch…_ ” he breathed raspily, his voice rough. “I hope you and your little pussy bitch _brother_ get scrapped.”

His LED went red. He blinked slow.

“I'll go get you a coffee.”

 

* * *

That was a month ago. A whole month had passed and all was for the most part forgiven. They- Hank, Connor, Richard and Gavin- were now working alongside each other on cases when they could, and would often swap partners whenever they felt like it. 

Everything was fine. Perfect even. They figured out the RA9 situation, got Markus and his crew deactivated and all was perfect and right in the world.

Until it wasn't.

Because Richard had gotten shot.

Yep. Shot.

It happened too fast, too fast for either of them to process, the quickest, _earliest_ recognition of it even happening was a loud, all encompassing _bang_ and a grunt left unheard beneath the sound of their shoes against the wet floor while they ran down the alley into the back of a derelict building, jumping the metal gate and running the halls in an attempt to ward off the pursuers.

He had first recognized it when they slowed, hiding behind a corner, the soldiers, unaware of the ditching, still running one direction. He had put his back on the wall, then saw Richard, his shoulder pressed against the exposed wood, back hunched. Connor scrambled to his feet.

“Richard!” He grabbed him, turning him to face him so he could scan him. Connor cradled his body against his and descended until his knees hit the ground. “Richard, _oh no,_ Richard!”

Richard had gotten shot. And he didn't even realize.

He began to panic.

“Richard-” he scrambled, moving the hand the other had pressed against the exit wound, and pressed harder. He performed his scan.

He was shot five minutes ago while they were running, the bullet went clean through, entering just beneath his left rib cage and exiting the abdomen. The running had put his pump into overdrive, drumming more thirium into his body than it should've, causing significant blood loss before they took their rest. A timer was in view, telling that they had approximately two minutes before he would shut down. That gave him a slight hope, Connor looked around. They could find a place in two minutes.

Except they couldn't. There wasn't anywhere to go that guaranteed safety back to Hank or Gavin, and the quickest route out the building took six minutes from their position, not accounting for any sudden ambush from one of the assailants.. He swore under his breath, panic still set in as he looked over him. He lifted the damaged and soaked shirt, revealing the large hole in his side. There wasn't anything they could do. Had Richard been wounded in the chest, he could have given him his pump, but that was morbid wishful thinking- he had gotten shot in a place Connor couldn't fix.

He adjusted him so that Richard was reclined comfortably on the bend of his right arm. The other looked at the ceiling blankly, then brought his gaze to Connor's face.

“C-” his voice cut, a trickle of blue falling from the corner of his mouth.

He shook his head, “Richard…”

He dropped his head. He felt Richard’s hand, blood covered and trembling, grab his wrist and squeeze weakly.

00:00:30

“Connor...” he looked at him, his drooping head meant to hide the welling of tears in his eyes. Richard was smiling at him, it was weak, faltering, yes, but it was wide and pure. He looked relaxed and happy, his shaking fingers trying to interlock with Connor's.  “.. _hand_..”

He gave it. It was awkward, two left hands locking, but they managed with Richard pressing their bloodied palms together, their fingers locking firmly despite the slick of thirium. He felt calmed by Richard’s demeanour and felt himself relax slightly, meeting the android's grays that never seemed to leave his face. It was as if he wanted to remember every part of it, the similar visage of his predecessor, studying their identical, familiar and even hidden, nuanced details.

00:00:20

His smile grew fonder, though pained, showing in the furrow of his brow and the red LED.

“I'm sorry, Richard. I didn't recognize. Please forgive me.”

Richard only smiled, ignoring the guilt.

“Your hand...warm against mine…like before..” he jerked hard, a shudder, after registering he had a few seconds left, “I like it…” his smile never left him, though how eyes blinked heavily as he powered down, going limp in his arms. It was over, but Connor was inconsolable.

_Stress level: Increasing: ^45%_

“Rich-”, Connor smiled, then it melted into sorrow. He brought their clasped hands to his forehead and took a deep breath that shook him to the core, and began to cry. His tears fell in torrents, and he wept profusely. He kissed their fingers.

_Stress level: Increasing: ^50%_

He didn't understand why he was getting so emotional over this, Richard would be back in the hour, it wasn't as if he'd never come back again but- it was the attachment, he supposed. The attachment to his body, though there were more of him in storage somewhere in the Cyberlife tower, it wouldn't feel the same as it did before. Those bodies weren't his brother, sure that they were the same model and 100% exactly the same, but they weren't the body he allowed into his home, they weren't the hands he held, nor were they the ones that pet Sumo or fiddled with rubber bands. They were _RK900s_ , but they're weren't _Richard._

_Stress level: Increasing: ^ 55%_

_Time until protective system shutdown: 00:06:47_

He yelled. It bordered a _scream_. But he yelled. Yelled so loud that he was sure it echoed throughout the hollowed building, that it reverberated through the city, reaching all available ears. This was grief. This was the intense pain and heart wrenching agony that came with it. He kept screaming, fist clenching angrily. His teeth grit so hard, they'd break with any added pressure.

_Stress level: Significant Increase: ^ 89%._

_Time until protective system shutdown:_ **_Significant decrease due to heightened stress_** _; 00:01:56_

His head felt heavy, his body hot. He could feel his biocomponents overworking and those same invasive notifications jumping into view began to add to his stress. The timer ticking at the corner of his vision- red numbers ticking away at his time of consciousness at the corner of his eye was infuriating. He yelled again, unable to vent frustration through damage as both hands were preoccupied with supporting Richard's body.

 **_“_ ** _Fuck_ ** _!”_ ** He yelled at his mechanics. At his genetics-at his inescapable body that was designed to add to his stress. _“Fuck off!”_ He yelled at nothing visible, but at his vision, everything in his head that popped up all over. He didn't want to read notifications about stress levels or _“protective shutdowns”,_ he knew what the fuck he was feeling, he didn't want to read it.

He just wanted to be alone to grieve.

He hunched over Richard’s body, protective even in sorrow, and continued to weep incessantly, drifting more towards the ground until he was able to rest his head on Richard’s cold, unmoving chest. He felt lethargic, the tears had slowed and his voice was damaged from yelling.

_Stress level: Increasing: ^95%_

_Time until protective system shutdown: 00:00:30_

He remembered laying with Richard in his bed, the two them lying side-by-side, Connor trying to teach him to go into rest mode so that he could pretend to fall asleep. Richard wasn't very good at it the first few times, but he managed to do it on the couch beside Hank, Sumo at their feet,  the three resting as the television blared late night advertisements.

Connor smiled.

_Time until protective system shutdown: 00:00:12_

There was a ringing in his ears, but he couldn't place it, couldn't answer.

No notification popped into view, and he turned his head, cheek on Richard's chest-

_Android in Protective System Shutdown; Time until reboot: 00:05:00. Please refrain from forced reboot._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay but real shit, why isn't PSS a thing in game like I think it's cool idk.  
> Like for Androids with really stressful jobs like doctors and detectives who you really can't afford to have self destruct- the PSS would be great for that, maybe an inconvenience because obviously they're gonna Shutdown for a few minutes, but still it's something that can prevent damage.  
> All androids should have it tbh, which would cause less deviants (?) maybe, but high stress level job androids would recover quicker, ya feel


End file.
